


Double Dip

by Ladytalon



Category: DCU (Comics)
Genre: Australian Slang, Food Kink, M/M, Scottish Character
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-23
Updated: 2015-04-23
Packaged: 2018-03-25 08:53:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,708
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3804376
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ladytalon/pseuds/Ladytalon
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Captain Boomarang and Mirror Master share some ice cream, but that's not all.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Double Dip

Move it over, ya bas,” Evan grunts, settling down on the couch. 

The cushions dip under his weight and Digger slides down so that their shoulders bump together before he can grab the arm and keep himself upright. “Watch it, shortbread.”

“That’s original,” his friend says, doing a double-take upon noticing what Digger has in his hand. “That ice cream ye got?”

“Could be.”

Evan turns towards him, tugging his mask off. “Gonna share it wi’ me, aye?”

“ _Nay_ ,” Digger mocks. He slides away so Mirror Master doesn’t just steal it, and lifts the cone to lick at the melting dollop of butter pecan that’s sliding down his knuckles. Once the overspill has been cleaned up, Digger runs his tongue around the softening edge of the creamy treat.

“Where’d ye get that?” McCulloch rubs at his reddened nose, sniffing. “C’mon, Boomer. ‘Tis hotter than sin on Sunday morn oot there.”

“That’s got fuck-all to do with me, mate.” Digger says, swiping his tongue up the cone. The Scotsman gives a loud sigh, just like the world’s settled upon his shoulders over a sugar cone double-dip, but Digger ignores him. Evan does it again, and a few more times after that until his lungs are busier than a whore at buck’s night. Digger slants his eyes towards the other man, who’s gearing up for another go-round, and gives a sigh of his own. If it shuts him up… “Eat it all an’ I’m breakin’ every mirror you own, ya whacker.”

He reluctantly extends the ice cream cone but instead of taking it, Mirror Master grasps his forearm and leans over to have a taste. His tongue curls into a ridge of ice cream to break loose a shard of pecan, then Evan fills in the depression with several licks that makes Digger’s groin tighten. It’s far too easy to imagine that tongue licking something else, and the Scot knows it. His hand slides up Digger’s arm as their eyes meet, and Evan purses his lips over the top of the cone suggestively. “The fuck you’re about; a root?”

McCulloch gives him a dirty grin and slowly licks up more of his butter pecan. “Doona tell me yer nae up for it.”

“This ain’t Belle Reve,” Digger reminds him. "Not the Pipeline, either."

“Who says it’s no’ if we’re th’ only ones here?” Evan asks, running his tongue over his bottom lip. “I’m outta scratch, an’ no lass is free.”

"Who says _I_ am?" Digger’s about to ask when McCulloch just scoots over and throws a leg over him as if he's already given the go-ahead. The warm weight of the younger man settling in his lap makes his cock give another interested twitch. “Well.” He pulls the cone back and slurps at it loudly; the melting ice cream begins to run down over his fingers, and Evan ducks down to lick it up. Digger uncurls his fingers slowly as the other man sucks each digit into his mouth in a parody of oral sex. "I don' have a-"

McCulloch grinds down against him, sighing as their dicks bump together through the layers of fabric. "We'll nae need it," he promises in that lust-thickened brogue. Digger's always been of a mind that it makes the man sound even dumber than he already is, but right now it's a bit of a turn-on. He works his hand between their bodies, sliding two fingers down to find his zipper and draw it down. This has to be the worst time and place for sex but in for a penny, in for a pound. Besides, all he has to do is stay on the bottom and if anyone walks in he'll just say Evan got coked up and jumped him.

He leans forward for another lick of ice cream and so does Evan, who pulls his own cock out. Their tongues flick and slide against each other as they lap up the rapidly melting treat, and Digger yelps involuntarily when Evan nudges the remainder of the ice cream off of the cone and onto his crotch. "I'll be gettin' that f’r ye," he breathes, sliding off onto the floor.

"Jesus fuckin' _wept_ ," Digger groans as McCulloch jerks his pants down past his knees and starts to lick up the mess splattered on his thighs. Most of it’s still coating the hard length of his erection, slowly dripping down his sack, and he bites down on the inside of his cheek when Evan moves his lips to the place he needs them most. Instead of a few teasing kisses and maybe a lick or two, the Scotsman immediately sucks him into his mouth. The sensation of Evan’s hot mouth surrounding him is a direct counterpoint to the melted ice cream that makes Digger shove his hips up frantically.

Digger fists his hands in McCulloch’s hair as Evan sucks him off with great back and forth motions that cause his cock to bump the back of the man’s throat. He works him with lips and tongue and the barest scrape of teeth that feels too good to complain about. Evan pulls back after a few minutes and settles back on his lap after shoving his own pants down and spitting in his palm. “I’ve got no franger,” he repeats.

“Haud yer wheesht, fannybawz.” Mirror Master spits again, then reaches down to slick up his cock. Digger leans back and watches Evan jack himself a few times before shoving his dick up against… well, that’s not bad at all. “Pure teckle like, aye?”

"That even English?" Digger pants, grasping Evan's hips for leverage.

They writhe about for a bit before finding an angle they both can work with; Digger's cock is sandwiched between his stomach and Evan's hipbone, while McCulloch has his cock shoved down against Digger's balls. Their movements are lubricated with spit and whatever bits of ice cream haven't soaked into the couch yet; it's awkward and it makes Digger feel like he's thirteen again in ways both good _and_ bad. He stretches up to pull Evan's head down to his because even if this is meant to be a quick and harmless…whatever, it doesn't feel right because they haven't even kissed yet. Not a properly, anyway.

McCulloch goes for it and they pash on just like they really _are_ in a cell with the sheet hung up. It's a little sloppy, but Digger doesn't mind because he's too keyed up to pay much attention to his own technique. He can feel Evan's cock sliding over the seam in his scrotum and nudging at the 'taint, right where it's especially sensitive. His fingers grasp at the hem of the other man's top, shoving it up to Evan's breastbone so he won't stain it. "Sweet Christ, right _there…!_ " Their teeth knock together and the kiss becomes even messier because they're panting like dogs and-

"Och, _ayyyyyye_ ," Evan groans out, rocking his hips faster until Digger feels his partner's cock twitching and jerking as he comes. McCulloch slumps against him, more useless than Jenny Craig at Waller's house. 

Digger gives an irritated sigh before reaching to smear some of Evan’s spunk on the drongo’s stomach – might as well use what’s already there. Closing his eyes, he digs his fingers into McCulloch’s back and thrusts. There’s just enough friction to create sparks behind his eyelids, and he sucks his bottom lip into his mouth as the heat coiled in his belly begins to spread. Just a few more rubs is all he needs… his eyes fly open in horror as he hears footsteps just outside the door. The knob starts turning and, though his mind is hitting the brakes his body is too far gone to listen. Digger raises his hips, thrusting up helplessly as his orgasm hits. He’s unable to do anything but shake and groan as he spurts onto Evan’s stomach and… fuck, it’s gotten on his costume.

He’s staring wide-eyed over Mirror Master’s shoulder at the door when it opens and Heatwave sticks his head in. “Digger, where are y- _whoa_.” Mick pulls back and slams the door, loudly announcing that he’s forgotten one of his gloves, and Digger shoves Evan off of his lap.

“Get your bloody doodle put away,” he hisses, yanking up his pants and frantically trying to restore his outfit to some semblance of order. McCulloch just sighs and rolls over so Digger’s forced to cram the Scotsman’s dick back in his pants, yank down his shirt, and hope for the best. _Shit_.

“Oh, here it is – I found it,” Heatwave bellows, and the door opens again just as Digger slides into a chair at the other side of the room. He picks up the closest magazine and pretends to be reading it when Mick comes back in, followed by Lenny and… oh, what the fuck is Arthur Light doing here?

Len sighs upon seeing Evan still passed out on the couch. “Don’t tell me he’s been using again.”

“No worries – just off his face after some grog,” Digger says cheerfully, narrowing his eyes at Light who’s looking from him to McCulloch and back again. “What’s Dr. Stickybeak doin’ here, then? Need his hood ornament glued back on?”

Arthur folds his arms across his chest with a smile. “Speaking of _sticky_ …”

“Shut it,” Digger snaps.

“What’s going on?” Lenny asks with a frown, sliding his visor up on his forehead.

“Oh, nothing,” Arthur says smoothly. “I was just wondering why your esteemed colleague was reading his magazine upside down. What _is_ that on your face, George?” His smile widens as Digger drops the magazine to touch his cheek, and Light hands Mick the roll of blueprints he’s been tapping against his chin. “I’ll see you tomorrow. It’s been a slice, gentlemen.” He leaves after giving Evan’s snoring form another long look and a snort. Whatever they’re up to, Digger plans to ensure Light’s sweating at the end of it, the nosy bastard.

Heatwave shakes his head as he walks over to the fridge for a beer and Lenny unzips his parka, looking down at the crushed remains of the sugar cone. Raising his head, he sniffs at the air with a puzzled expression on his face. “What’s that smell?”

**Author's Note:**

> This was the first time I've ever written Scottish and Australian slang, so I made use of several online slang dictionaries. I apologize if I've gotten anything too terribly wrong.


End file.
